Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Ben Krewinkel's A Possible life is one of my favourite books on the uncertain migrant experience . The Mass of documentation overlaid with the personal is very familiar to anyore who has had any contact with less well-off migrants.

This is especially the case with asylum seekers; there is a constant stream of dealings with officialdom, a sea of letters, photocopies and correspondence with official agencies of all sorts; the kind of thing that Krewinkel lays out so intelligently in his book - or rather that the designer Annette Kouwenhoven lays out so intelligently and elegantly in her book.

Add to that the incredible stress and uncertainty of not having any definitive status and you can understand why Krewinkel's book is so very, very strong. It's multi-faceted and busy, but with an underlying and constant narrative that provides a backbone that is neither patronising nor rosey-eyed. Gualbert has made a choice and he is stuck with it, but it's a choice that he made without the trauma and duress of conflict, violence or loss. He's an economic refugee.

It's much more modest in scope, but I rate Krewinkel's book right up there with Jim Goldberg's Open See or Wendy Ewald's Towards a Promised Land project - the project isn't really about the book, but it does capture the disorientation and displacement the young refugee experiences.

The problem is why aren't there any photographic projects by refugees/asylum seekers that capture the tone of their experiences in quite such an expert way. Of course there are the PhotoVoice kind of projects, which have that engagement aspect and provide a visual outlet for young refugees, but these lack the sophistication of books such as Krewinkel's.

And even if there are people who have a sophisticated visual language, the sheer poverty, drudgery and stress of daily life preclude the possibility of producing a incisive and coherent body of work. If you're worrying about the Border Agency coming to take you away at 4am every morning because you've just turned 18 and that's the way the cookie crumbles in the UK, the likelihood of being intrigued by how to fold your book pages are minimal.

In the same way, I wonder why I couldn't think of more top-notch,
innovative Nigerian photographers when I was doing the Innovative (not the best..)
photographers thing a few weeks back.

I've mentioned several Nigerian novelists on this blog, I've touched on vernacular
Nigerian photography, I've looked at a white South African photographing
in Nigerian, but innovative Nigerian photographers - I'm not quite
there.

I don't know - given the economics of both photography and Nigeria, I get the feeling that there might be some barriers to innovation in the country. I have often quoted How to write about Africa on this blog; as a lesson in How not to Write about Africa. But at the same time I do sometimes feel that the essay could also be titled How to Write About Africa.

I recently read a book called I do not come you by chance, by Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani. It was about a man who got sucked into selling 419 scams around the world. How stereotypical can you get? Yet it had a vibrancy, urgency and ambivalence to it. It reminded me of when I shared a house with a Nigerian man (He was from a wealthy family - "In my country you'd be washing my dishes" ) who was constantly fielding calls from relatives trying to get him to middle-man their latest sugar deal, something he did, but hated. His ambivalence and the way he was torn between two worlds and twelve moralities was quite something to behold.

Similarly with the rest of the world. I touch on film from India, China
and Africa, I've mentioned novelists with a Somalian, Dominican and
Pakistani heritage, but not necessarily as much photography by domestic photographers as I would like. But from what I know about Somalia, I am making a guess that being innovative, inquisitive and celebrating the kind of liberal visual values that I am interested in, are going to be very difficult avenues to pursue in Somalia. Even if someone were to have the interest and passion in pursuing those kind of values in the photographic sphere.

But when it comes to writing, that's a different matter. Writing ties in with both written, oral and folk traidions. Which I suppose is why there are so many great writers who describe the immigrant experience in novels. And I feature them on this blog because they are there and I read their books and they are great. And they interest me much more than insipid books about the English middle classes and their tiresome neuroses. They have more vitality and energy and ideas.

Monday, 29 October 2012

I finally cut open Ben Krewinkel's A Possible Life: Conversations with Gualbert, a book in which the pages are folded over so one side of the story is visible (the documenation of Gualbert's life) and the other is invisible - unless you cut the pages open . I did it in a seminar at Newport with a bunch of lovely documentary photography students. First I cut, and I butchered a couple of pages, then another student took over, and he butchered the book as well. Then someone suggested I use a decent letter-opener rather than a Stanley knife. So I took the book home and butchered it some more with a letter opener.

Even without opening the book, the general opinion was "I want one of those" with one dissenting "Anyone can do that."

So I took the book home and finished the job there. As with David Alan Harvey's Based on a True Story, there is a truly interactive element to Krewinkel's work, an element of theatre, of investigating and probing into something that lies hidden. The pictures don't matter in some ways. But as you cut, you see them, slowly revealing a different world to the life of Gualbert, the man depicted in the book. It's not an especially cheery world; it's rather lonely and isolated. Gualbert seems out of sorts in the picture, neither here nor there, a depressed character caught in a nightmare where people think he's something he's not. His family think he's something he's not, the Dutch government think he's something he's not, the people around him think he's something he's not.

Anyway, the book, which I think is wonderful, got me thinking about stories and books about refugees and migration, more of which later.

Monday, 22 October 2012

It's a book about an illegal migrant to the Netherlands. Part fiction, part reality, it is massively annoying, but also rather wonderful and very intelligent. .

The most annoying thing about it (after the part fiction/part reality thing) is the fact that to view the book properly, you have to cut it open. You have to destroy it in other words. I'm strangely reluctant to do this. But because it is such a smart book, I'm wondering if I should buy myself another copy so I have my mint collector's item. I probably will but I feel a bit odd about that, fetishising the mint condition work.

Thursday, 18 October 2012

I stumbled on these pictures by Arthur Rostein the other day. They were taken for the FSA and are of a what is essentially a refugee camp in California for migrants from the dustbowls of Arkansas and Oklahoma. The pictures remind me of Robert Adams and Bill Owens in a roundabout sort of way.

This is what he thought of California at the time. "I like it the least of the western states. My impression is that
everything is commercialized, the police & city officials are
corrupt grafters, there is little of that gracious western hospitality
& most of the people are of that reactionary, super-patriotic,
fascist-minded type."

There is more on Rostein here and the readings of the self-government of the camp are fascinating as are the reactions of local businesses to the camp. The camps
and resettlement of migrants were opposed by big farmers who worried
about their pool of cheap labour disappearing. Local shopkeepers opposed
the camps because they were worried about the camp cooperative shop
selling things at cheaper prices.

California's growers and a significant portion of the state's business
establishment viewed with suspicion any activity on behalf of migrant
workers, including the creation of migrant camps. The growers would
benefit from an oversupply of homeless, dependent workers. There had
been strikes in California since the start of the Depression, and the
growers feared unionization and continued labor unrest.

Thursday, 4 October 2012

David Alan Harvey's (based on a true story) is my no-brainer book of the year (see my Photo-eye review here). I was fascinated to know how it was made so I emailed a few questions over to Eva Kunz, who (along with David Alan Harvey and Bryan Harvey, produced the book.

What is your job with Burn?

I'm
very much focused on BurnBooks. At the moment, I’m working with David
Alan Harvey and his son Bryan on the upcoming newspaper version of
(based on a true story). It will be distributed for free in Rio's
favelas to the people who are such an important part of the story.

How did you get involved with David Alan Harvey?

It
was this spirit of "pay back, pay forward" that made me get in touch
with David. We live geographically very far apart, but are connected on
an intellectual level. Meeting online was the first step.

His
Road Trips blog had evolved into Burn Magazine, a venue for emerging
photographers, where those with a voice but no name could get a space
and the possibility to show their work.

As
a mentor and teacher he is always on the look out for new work, always
sharing his knowledge and connections. My kind of guy in a mostly
self-centered world.

When did the idea of the book first arise?

David
is always thinking books. He has a very extensive body of work about
South America in general, and Rio de Janeiro in particular.

He
was in love with the city and its people, the atmosphere, the mood, the
duality of the place, which reflects very much in his own being.

After two years of shooting, the traditional documentary photography part
was done, the backdrop set, and he went back one more time to Rio,
without constrictions, free from assignments, to take "backstage" every
day pictures to complete the book.

This
last shoot has become very central to the book, and is completely
different from his earlier "Divided Soul", which was also shot partially
in Brazil.

What was the first idea for the book?

Rio
is too vibrant to be fit into a normal mainstream book, too many
emotions, the society too interwoven… one picture on one page, the next
on the other, it just did not feel like the right thing to do. So the
first idea was that a trade book was just not it.

Rio,
as lived and felt by David, was much more like a novela, a dream, a
Shakespeare stage… full of passion, sound, emotion, a puzzle to be
figured out... Living on the edge was the mantra, to be translated into
book form.

How did the physical elements of the book (the beads, the looseleaves, the cord) take shape?

We
spoke a lot about how it felt like to be in Rio, much more than what it
looked like. Having a connection with Brazilian culture helped me
understand.

I
had his words in my mind all the time, along with his pictures, the way
he composes, uses the space and colours on multiple layers, and his
idea of a loose tabloid… prints more than book pages… all of this was in
my head like a puzzle.

It
all came together with two pictures: a couple sitting on a sofa and a
girl lying in the sea, both with legs spread over to the other side of
the picture... half and half becoming a whole again. I saw a way to fit
the pieces together.

David
perfectly knew what he did not want and what he wanted, but did not
know how it could be done. I could SEE it, the duality of it, so very
well reflected in his photographs.

I
made a very small mock up, and from there he and his son Bryan, who is a
film maker, did a superb job of taking the whole idea on a completely
different level, not just looking for complementary pictures, but
creating a movie within the still images. Bryan's deep knowledge of his
dad and his work combined with his film editing skills allowed to create
a sort of Rubik's cube, a mystery that could be read not only front to
back, but also backwards and/or cross wise.

Being
this an interactive book, we needed to find a way to hold the lose
spreads together. Finding paper that could hold the fold, without
breaking on the spine, but without giving up the look and feel we
needed, has been a tale all by itself. We ended up using the brand which
is very close to the one money is printed on.

Up to the very last moment Bryan and I played with rubber bands, eyelets, hooks.. and the string.. the beads to tighten and loosen it was our solution to keep all together without binding. Everything fell into place, pieces of the puzzle completed, in a perfect collaboration.

How did you decide on the 'looseness' of the leaves?

This
looseness completely reflects who David is. How he lives, how he works.
Rock solid at the essence, but floating in the expression of it. This
really is not a book about Rio de Janeiro, but a book about David's
vision of it. Or more specifically his use of the traditional tale with a
muse/muses.Rio is just the backdrop. That is why the word RIO is never
written in the book. You must figure out where this is, you must figure
out many things.

"A
Shakespeare stage set in Rio" as he calls it. More than a decision, the
loosenesss was a natural evolution. The pleasure to look and touch a
fairly good sized print, the interactivity of this puzzle, the idea that
every one could take it apart and build their own story.

To have the possibility of one story become many many stories… all of this played into the looseness of the whole idea.

How did the edit progress? What was the process and how long did it take?

While
still shooting in Rio, one hour photo lab prints were made and put up
on the wall of the apartment, and were moved around constantly. During
his final month long shoot, the audience of Burn, or better, of theriobook.com, could have an in depth look at the whole process, kind of a live online workshop.

Later,
Bryan, Candy Pilar Godoy (his digital assistant in Rio), David and I
worked on the edit once back in NYC, digging into the archives, looking
for the best pictures that would tell THIS story.

This
was not just an edit for strong pictures, but also a pairing edit,
where two pictures had to work together and fit the mood and flow of the
whole story. By the end of February the script was set.

What was the rational for the half-reveal of the landscape pictures?

Like music, photography has a rhythm, high notes and low ones.. calmness preceding a crescendo, dissonances resolving...the same we find here, the rhythm, the beat..

What is the purpose of the contact sheets?

The
contacts are totally part of the novella development. A way to
introduce the six key "characters" of the drama. It also suggests: a
film, a movie, a sequential development.

Who's the girl on the cover?

That's
Candy Pilar Godoy. This is one of those serendipity moments that rule
David's life. His former assistant had to cancel the trip one day before
leaving for Rio, so he had to look for a new one right away. His fixer
and friend Roberta Tavares, one of the muses and characters of the book
connected him with Candy, who then became the central muse.

She was
later an editor and now is his assistant in New York.

Spending a whole month with the women all interacting throughout the book has led to an intimate and intricate story.

What was the reason for the postcard clues?

Since
there is no text in the book, nothing explaining how it works, we felt
that a few words were needed to introduce the mystery and give a heads
up that this is more a game and a puzzle than a book.

Was the book tested on people outside the production team?

Yes.
We handed the dummy to colleagues, family and friends who would drop by
at the loft in New York, with no explanation and waited for their
reaction. The response was great.

One
of the first people to dive into the dummy was James Nachtwey, whose
words were “David, this is literature”. Exactly what we intended it to
be. We could go from "there's only the three of us crazy" to "we have
something". Great feeling!

How important was the video to the marketing of the book?

Since
we're mostly offering this limited edition online and there is no text,
it is very important. Piques one's curiosity and explains how it can be
looked at, played with.

Were any other books an inspiration for Based on a True Story?

No..
David says his influences were movies like Sophia Coppola's “Lost in
Translation” and Nan Goldin's approach of photographing her most
immediate surroundings and life than anything else.

How has it sold? What has the reaction to it been?

The
reaction has been great, people really "get it". It is amazing. It’s
not an inexpensive book - due to the material, the first class printing,
and there is so much work involved, from assembling it by hand, to
putting on the beads and strings one by one, checking the spreads etc.

The
book is selling well in an ascending price curve. It is now in its
fourth price upward evolution. The last 100 will be sold at $192, which
is $100 more than the first 100, but actually exactly what it was worth
in the first place. We expect it to double in price in the collector
market as soon as the last copy is sold. We are getting close.

We're
also offering a very limited edition and completely handmade tile box,
laid out with unique double-run print sheets, work done by Bryan. Each
collector box is different from the other, including a signed print and
book.

And,
as mentioned above, the newspaper version is being printed, because we
are convinced that the work should be seen and shared and enjoyed. This
is the most important part.

Monday, 1 October 2012

It's lovely to get excited by a book. That's what happened when David Alan Harvey's book, ( based on a true story) arrived in the post.

I had seen the video of the book (see above) and was already impressed, if a bit doubtful - it is just a bit too slick.

Then the book came and I was blown away. There are few words in the book. Most of them are found on a postcard which gives you clues how to use it. And they are great clues, succinct and to the point. The design is incredibly well-thought out. Nothing has been left to chance here.

It's a book that tells its own story, but then invites you to rearrange it. It makes you rearrange it. It cuts pictures in half and makes you put them together again.

Normally when a book lets you make the story, it's because of laziness, because the photographer can't really be bothered to go to the final effort of actually laying things on the line (and I like to have things laid on the line - as long as I can still have the freedom to interpret, question or relay that line) and creating a solid narrative. Think of it as the curse of the stream of consciousness - the kind of stream that spurts out of your ass after you've eaten the chicken that spent those days too long in the fridge.

(based on a true story) isn't like that. The narrative is there, in big bold (cliched perhaps, but what the heck) David Alan Harvey Colours. And then you are invited to reinvent things.

It's bold, fun and just the best book that I have seen for a long, long time. And it's not earnest, boring or dull! Bonus times in photobook world.